


Glowing White

by MorganBartonRomanoff



Series: Clintasha Advent 2020 [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Pre-Relationship, Strike Team Delta (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganBartonRomanoff/pseuds/MorganBartonRomanoff
Summary: Day 1 ofClintasha Advent 2020- ColoursHe can't hear very well, and, apparently, he doesn't listen either. He does see, though. He sees all the colours brighten whenever she's around.Part Nine of my Avengers Bingo; Square filled - Friends to LoversPart One of my Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2020 - L1 - Love Confession
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: Clintasha Advent 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049084
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Glowing White

**Author's Note:**

> Also written for the Avengers Bingo 2020 by [avengersbingo](https://avengersbingo.tumblr.com) and for the Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2020 by [ladiesofmarvelbingo](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/ladiesofmarvelbingo)

The bruise was a deep purple high on his cheekbone, contrasting with the pale green one on his jaw. She stared him down in disappointment, anger, frustration, but her emerald eyes struggled to hide the exasperated affection that fought to rise to the surface. He was an absolute mess and they both knew it, but it was alright because she wasn’t much better.

The bright red first aid kit sat on the couch between them as she pulled out the supplies she needed to patch him up, _yet again_. It was a common occurrence nowadays for him to get into another fight before he had even fully healed from the last one. She didn’t fully understand why but didn’t push it. If he had wanted her to know, he would have told her.

She leaned over to place a band aid on the crimson cut on his nose – it wasn’t broken this time – and her fiery hair fell to the side. His eyes followed the movement and he barely suppressed the urge to run his fingers through it. She was pissed enough with him as it was.

The sandy dog at his feet moved its head from his lap to nudge at her hand and she paused to nudge it back gently, almost playfully. He smiled, and Lucky looked up at him with one chocolate eye. Then he focused back on her. On the way she slightly pursed her lips in concentration as she gently took care of the damage he had done, _yet again_. And _yet again, she didn’t ask._ He wondered how much longer she was going to deal with his crap, how much longer she was going to stick around, how much longer he was going to keep doing this because it was his only way of coping. The worst, absolutely most self-destructive way to cope, yes, he was aware. But he didn’t have another one.

There was a crease between her eyebrows, and he reached for her wrist before he could stop himself, halting her in her actions. His storm cloud eyes bore into hers for a second before he bowed his head down, unable to hold the weight of the accusation of her gaze. It was easier to look at her hands.

_Why are you doing this?_

_Sorry. Complicated_ , he signed. The purple devices were lying either discarded somewhere around the apartment or at the bottom of a dumpster. He wasn’t quite sure. He wondered how Murdock managed.

 _Okay_ , she replied. And left it at that. His jaw clenched and something burning white flashed through him. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, he tried to tell himself. But it was just like at the beginning. Distant. She was there, but not really.

His head snapped back up and he found her already glaring at him. She looked as angry as he felt. Good. Maybe that meant they would finally get to talk about it. He tried again – to talk, but not exactly.

 _Hard_. He hoped she would ask. He watched the black fabric of her turtleneck fall and rise with each deep, calming breath, eyes focused just below her chin.

 _Look at me._ Her movements were sharp, jagged. He didn’t really want to, but he knew he owed her at least that much. He swallowed and did as she asked, preparing himself for the destruction her disapproval and disappointment and disdain would cause him. Instead, her face was devoid of all of these. She just seemed… sad. And somehow, that was worse, because he was the one that destroyed, no matter what her demons kept telling her. He was the one that destroyed, and she was the one that took care of the pieces. He had much more red in his ledger than her.

 _Why_ , she mouthed. He didn’t want to lie to her. He was tired of keeping things from her. She was his best friend and so far, he had dismissed all of her concern every single time when she had been there to put him back together.

 _Just stupid,_ he shrugged. She nodded, an unimpressed eyebrow raised.

_You are._

His eyes roamed over her face, the features he’d memorized years ago, the features which had taken forever to soften for him but _had,_ nonetheless. He didn’t want to ruin this.

His hands moved on their own. He didn’t trust his voice to explain, and yes, maybe sign wasn’t much better – it was probably worse, in all honesty, even more vague and awkward than he would have worded it, but it just _felt_ right.

She stood, frozen, watching.

He realised how hard it must be for her to see him say that, to understand what he meant, what he felt.

He hadn’t expected her to respond positively, but he had expected her to respond. Instead, she got up and took the first-aid-kit with her to the kitchen, a mask of perfect composure in place. His heart hammered loudly in his chest, loud enough for him to hear without his aids, oud enough to be able to hear the silence surrounding him, and the emptiness that was left in her place. He rubbed his face instinctively, flinching at the contact with his injuries.

What had he expected this would achieve? That had been the reason for him to take it out on himself in the first place – the fear of her rejection, the wreckage of their friendship, the impossibility of it all.

Something pressed against his knee and he reached over to put a hand on Lucky’s head – except his fingertips didn’t press against smooth fur, but instead against soft cotton. His head jerked up. The soft cotton of her sweatpants, where his fingers rested on the side of her knee. She had put a bottle of the vodka he kept around for her on the table in front of them with two glasses, his purple hearing aids next to them.

He reached over reluctantly. Did he have to hear her say it? He wasn’t sure that would end nicely for him. In all reality, he was surprised she was still there. More surprisingly, he was still perfectly intact (as intact as he had been before he had spilled his guts, anyway).

Her voice flooded in like a rainstorm after a drought.

“Were you ever going to tell me if I hadn’t asked?” He sighed.

“It wasn’t going to just go away.” His voice was hoarse for some reason. Odd, it was his ears that he hadn’t used in a while. (Perhaps his brain as well, if he was to ask her.) Hadn’t he spoken that night at all?

“Of course not,” she nodded and opened the bottle. He waited for her to say something else, but she only handed him a glass. They downed the shots and he felt like she was waiting for him to keep talking. He hadn’t really answered her question. “I don’t know.”

She frowned as she poured alcohol again. “You don’t trust me?” He snorted.

“You know that’s absolutely not it. I trust you more than I trust myself. It’s just that…” The words were at the tip of his tongue, but he wondered if he had any right to utter them. He took the glass and gulped down the burning liquid. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

He was surprised by her laugh, deep and husky and completely hypnotizing. “I risk repeating myself here,” she teased, “but you _are_ stupid.” He took the liberty of pouring the next round instead of answering. “I thought we didn’t have secrets.”

There was something accusing in her tone, the first sign of his betrayal that she’d given him. He would have taken it all back if he could. Instead, all he could do was swallow before gulping down the vodka, eyes straying to look around at the grey bricks of one wall and the navy couch and the dark wood of the table in front of them. “We don’t.”

“That’s a pretty big secret.”

“I thought it would go away.”

“You said yourself it doesn’t work like that.” She poured them one more each and he didn’t waste time. He couldn’t keep having this conversation sober.

“I wish it did.”

“Why?” He looked at her at that.

“ _Why?”_ He spread his arms out in exasperation. “Look at where we are. Look at what we’re talking about.”

Her eyes held the intensity of an ancient rainforest – deep and dark and dangerous, mesmerizing and terrifying, and absolutely, stunningly beautiful. “I’m looking.” Her voice was level, yet feather-light, gentle.

He poured himself another shot and another one after that. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be, that’s my vodka,” she scolded.

“ _Why_ are you not taking this seriously?”

“I am,” she admitted – it _was_ an admission, honest and genuine, “But you’re not hearing what I’m trying to say.” He reached for her bottle again and she slapped his hand away. “Stop it. You’re not listening.”

“I’m deaf.”

“Nice excuse. Try again.”

“I don’t want to deal with what’s about to come, then.”

“And what do you think is about to come?” Her amusement was infuriating, but he was still coherent enough to know he had no right to be infuriated – she did.

“I’m going to have to live with it.” Her eyes were alight now, lighter and clearer. He was glad she was enjoying his misery.

“I hope so,” she smirked.

“Why–“

He didn’t get a chance to finish. She didn’t give him a chance to finish. She’d shut him up quite efficiently, and he could admit, he really was stupid. The lights of his living room dimmed, until there was nothing but the darkness, rich and black and filled with stars, more discernible than in the actual night sky, glowing white behind his eyelids.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot.
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [ohwriteiforgot](https://ohwriteiforgot.tumblr.com)


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